


Being a puppet

by mixfingersx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixfingersx/pseuds/mixfingersx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working on the 'Puppet Killer' case, Will start to see all the<br/>strings attached to himself, most of those standing on a thin line between<br/>safety, danger, desire and morals, mainly his relationship with Hannibal. It<br/>only gets more complicated when Will questions what's wrong and right: hold<br/>back or do what he desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Being a puppet

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I want you to know that I'm not a native english speaker so forgive me for any mistakes, feel free to point them out but please, don't go grammar nazi mode on me. This is also my first fanfic, Will and Hannibal's relationship is so... I just had to write what the series couldn't in the TV. Yes, there's going to be an insight in their relation but m/m and rough sex too. Hope you like it, let me know! P.s.: this fanfic is available in the site fanfiction.net also.

He was slapped and bit his cheek, the metallic taste was distinct in his mouth, it hurt, but soft lips tried to sooth the ache, sucking the very same spot that caused it. Strangely, it worked. The pain was bearable and after a few moments replaced by pure pleasure, such sweet pleasure that he couldn't help but moan. A sudden urge to open his eyes and see who was his lover came to him and when he finally did, brown eyes stared back, not warm chocolate, but a fiery storm of earth and freckles of red, hot as lava. That might sound poetic and all but still didn't describe what he saw in those eyes. Hannibal's eyes.

Will woke up panting and soaked in sweat, as usual. It was no surprise for him waking up from nightmares, actually it was routine, but this was no nightmare, was it? The dream couldn't even be considered a wet dream: no release came from it, only more tension. Such delightful feelings weren't bad, but with a man? Worse yet, Hannibal? This dreams were only getting more frequent. He held nothing against gay men, but never thought it was his cup of tea, until Hannibal.

The psychiatrist was everything he wasn't, Will thought, elegant and confident, moving with grace and at ease with himself. Even after years living in Baltimore, his English still had a slight accent hinting European origins, as if his exotic bone structure wasn't enough to give him away.

Most people wouldn't accuse him of being beautiful, it was something in his aura, gestures and manners that attracted them. Will disagreed, for him, Hannibal was beautiful and attractive and much more. Too bad their relationship was only a professional patient-doctor, even if not officially, though he doubted Hannibal would want more than that, whether as lovers or friends.

Checking the time on the bedside clock, it was almost time to get up so he might as well get himself ready now. He couldn't go back to sleep, not after that dream. He didn't even want to think about today's 20:00 session with a certain psychiatrist. Right now, he had to get to his class.

''I would like to get to know you better. A free session, of course and...'' Blah, blah, blah, again Will was the victim of some Doc wanting to use him like a lab rat. Now and then people, mostly ''shrinks'', waited for him to get out of class and ask inconvenient questions.

''Thank you but I don't need it'' He interrupted ''I'm already seeing a doctor''

''Doctor who..?'' The man asked with curiosity at the same time Will's cellphone ringed. For once he was grateful to the annoying thing that symbolized social communication, fortunately, or not, he didn't have many friends so it should be work.

''I'm sorry'' He really wasn't ''I have to get this.''  
The call was from work, a dead body. Hooray.

''If I was a puppet then you'd be my master, to pull my strings forever after.''

Will hated puppets, people are just like them. They stand there pretty and smiling on the stage but behind it they can't even stand, laying there in a pile of disorganized members connected by a string of manipulation. It would seem this killer liked them.

There were two bodies, both of women. A grotesque scene that could be almost erotic if it wasn't for the blood stains everywhere. The members had been cut right where articulations met - hands, forearms, head, legs, all connected by strings, just like puppets. The killer arranged the scene in a way that looked like the women were kissing each other, breast to breast, hanging from the ceiling.

As it was routine, everybody got out of the room to let Will do what he did best: empathize with the murderer. He knew that some of the team held resentment for his ''exclusivity'' but thought it was ridiculous, who would want to be VIP in a crime scene?

He closed his eyes and expanded his mind. Dilated pupils and panting breath. That's how the killer felt, first rage and desperation, trying to run from...

I'm not a puppet! He spanks the women as he rapes them, taking his knife from the pocket only after brutal damage.

First stab.  
I'm not... Another stab.  
A fucking... Thirteenth stab.  
Puppet.

Then a calm sense of peace embraces him. Blood stains are roses, the women on the floor are angels and his breath is the sweetest melody. He is their master and they served him well, so they would be recompensed with being a part of his piece of art, pieces actually, he thought with a bitter sense of humor. This isn't a show, this is my life.

''C'mon, another guy with a god complex?'' One of the forensics team workers mumbled while checking inside between the legs of the corpse with a ridiculously pink lantern ''Yep, there was sexual abuse'' Pretty words for rape, Will thought and leaned forward.

''I believe it's quite the opposite, this guy has an inferiority complex and wants to prove something. As it is obvious by the arrangement, he has some issues with puppets'' He said more to himself than to the other man. ''For all we know, he could be some creepy working on a kid's toys store'' He bitterly smirked.

''Puppets, huh?'' Jack Crawford said ''Well, this might be a long shot but yes, I'll have somebody check it''

Will stood at Hannibal's front door with a bottle of wine and rang the bell, he was almost two hours early but couldn't wait anymore to see the doctor, anxiety making his hands tremble. The man seemed to drink wine at every opportunity, so he bought a bottle, even not knowing much about wine, he just wanted to make a good impression. Too late for that, he thought. His hair was a mess, as always, his clothes ruffed, as always. He should come back later, wait in the car, but as he was turning, the door opened.

''Hello William'' Hannibal said with his usual cool politeness while frowning ''You're early, is there something wrong?''

Will glanced back and forth to the street, his feet, the door, never meeting the doctor's eyes for more than a second.

''Err... I was... I am... I c-can come back later, sorry'' He mumbled and started to make for the street.

''Stop'' Hannibal said, first, in a very authoritarian way, then, much gentler ''Come in, Will.'' He offered his hands to take the bottle.

How could Will resist the demanding those soft words masked? Looking up and really seeing, hypnotized and no longer fully aware of his actions, he gave the bottle, gasping soundly when their fingers brushed, prickling in a good way even after the contact. Hannibal took a step aside to let him enter. He did and heard the muffled thump of the door closing behind them.


	2. You are not a sheep

**_'It might be said of psychoanalysis that if you give it your little finger it will soon have your whole hand.'_  **Sigmund Freud

If Hannibal was upset about his getting earlier, he didn't show. Instead he invited Will to sit and talk, as always. For more than one hour, they talked, their pauses covered by a comfortable silence. Will brought up his earlier encounter that day.

''Another one of those doctors wanting me as a lab rat, it's annoying'' He complained thinking about that day's experience ''I really don't appreciate their 'professional' curiosity, wait... You probably have it too, don't you?'' He actually wanted Hannibal to be curious about him, but not in that way.

''I find it interesting'' Doctor answered neutrally.

''That's a fine word for a psychiatrist, could another one be anymore cliché?''

''Intriguing, compelling,  _fascinating_.'' The words hung in silence until Hannibal saved him the effort to formulate something to say. ''You don't need to analyze, you simply understand it. Of course it comes with a price, but you'll learn to deal with it''

''I don't think I'm dealing with it. I can't sleep ultimately, it's those f*cking dreams'' He said that last part under his breath.

''Dreams?''

Will's head snapped up perceiving what he had said. Ops.

''Dreams, you know''

''No, I don't. Violence? Death? Sex.''

Did he imagine it or Hannibal had just affirmed the word sex? Now he was really going crazy, better relate to corpses than imagine voices affirming sex.

''All of those together'' He said partly ashamed, if it wasn't for the inhibited pleasure he had from those dreams, he would be fully ashamed, of course.

''That's nothing to be ashamed of, William. Everybody has a standard deviation''

''I have an exotic standard deviation''

''So do I''

''But there are the exotic ones and the normal exotic ones''

''What defines normal? Everybody has its share of oddness, the normal is defined by the average. Have you ever seen anyone fully defined by the average? If yes, that person must be very predictable and therefore, boring ''

''I don't think predictable is boring'' Will frowned, he wished he had a predictable life instead of this mental uncertainty, badly.

''That's because you're too focused on an ideal of perfect bright happiness, Will. But what is peace without a fight?''

''I just wish I could be another sheep at the middle of a herd'' He sighed.

''Not a sheep, I eat sheep. You're above that'' Hannibal showed his teeth in a smile. There was a private joke in that remark but Will couldn't possibly understand it, not yet.

''OK, that was a terrible analogy''

* * *

****  
**_"_ ** **_One drop of wine is enough to redden a whole glass of water''_ ** **Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame** ****  


They finished the meal and when Will offered to help him with the dishes, Hannibal surprised both of them by letting him dry them, it was an ordinary chore that bore a delightful familiarity. He willingly accepted to risk of having Will breaking something of his expensive tableware - after all, the man was very clumsy - but it was worthy to see him working in one of Hannibal's favorite places: The Kitchen. One of the other places was The Bedroom, but that's for another night.

The Kitchen was modern and expensive, as most of his things were, but practical. Everything was placed within a logic that seemed to be oblivious to Will who, as predicted, managed to let two glasses fall off a gigantic table. Will's reflexes were actually good - Hannibal appreciated that- he took one of the glasses just before it fell but there was no salvation for the other.

He stood there before William, watching the man look fixedly to the broken glass and wondered what he was thinking. Probably comparing himself with the impossible-to-repair pieces, as melodramatic as Will was, or maybe Hannibal was too cold. Anyway, it didn't matter.

What mattered was that his prey was knelled on the ground before him shredding itself to pieces - emotional and physical - and Hannibal couldn't afford that, he liked to shred in pieces himself, preferentially with a well sharped kitchen knife.

''Is everything alright?'' He asked while helping the investigator up.

''Yes'' Meaning No. Hannibal ignored this, in the end of what he had planned, Will would be fine under his supervision.

''Come, I have a first-aid kit, there are some cuts here and...''

''It's ok, really, I'm sorry about...''

''William, it is very rude to interrupt someone in the middle of a sentence. Now, what kind of host would I be if I didn't help my guests?''

''You just interrupted me'' Will mumbled but followed him when yanked forward by the hand.

For a brief moment, Hannibal had a glimpse on how he himself was cold, inside and out, Will's hand burned through his, like it was more than a physical connection. But that couldn't be.

''Sit here, I'll be right back''

His first-aid kit stood with the other ones, arranged with organization. Anybody that looked at it would think it was just a lot of metal boxes, but they were to Hannibal what the dogs were to Will: an easy grip onto sanity. Some were filled with plastic overalls, others with different types of knives and sharpeners. He had used each set of them at least one time to variated chores, he thought smiling.

Every time he got out of some fancy store, a new set was purchased, even when online, something was ordered! It was a relapse he could afford, of course, but it still bothered him to lose control so he had been ''clean'' for almost two weeks already and that was a record. Just thinking of a Wusthof knife... He shook his head as if to clear the thoughts and took the medication kit.

He opened the box and sat next to his patient, taking out his tweezers, band-aids and anti-septic, enjoying how Will looked nervously to the tweezers. He took them and started to make for Will's face, which recoiled with the rest of his body to the opposite side of the sofa.

''Really?'' Hannibal asked frowning, relishing everything, and patted the place beside him.

Will sighed but obeyed anyway, not noticing how common that habit was becoming when around the doctor.

''Close your eyes, it will be easier, there are some pieces of glass inside the cut''

Will obeyed, again.

''That's better. Cut wounds are particularly prone to infection and it may not fully heal if there's anything inside it'' He said while picking one little fragment.

A drop of blood fell from the cut and Hannibal collected it with one finger, wishing nothing but to taste it. He slowly put it on his tongue, reveling on the suggestive tang of metal and continued to clean the slash as if nothing had happened, placing a band-aid on it.

''It's all good now, try not to break another glass close to your face'' he said barely containing his smile.

''Don't make fun of me''

''Isn't that what friends do?''

''Are we friends?'' he asked dubiously.

''You're right, we're much more'' Hannibal said getting up, closing the kit and taking the tweezers to the wash basin.

''More?''

''Of course. You are my patient, guest  _and_  friend'' Hannibal could almost taste Will's disappointment to his response for what was 'more' and smiled again. ''Come, there is something I want to show you''


	3. The wrong empathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... if you're one of those who likes pure mush, just bear with me, I'm just evolving their relation so it can fit with what I'm planning. Meanwhile, dialogs and gory descriptions for you : B

 

_**"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart for so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can be together all the time." - A.A. Milne** _

''A book?'' Will tried to contain the disappointment in his voice.

''You don't have to pretend you are interested. I appreciate honesty''

To tell the truth, Hannibal couldn't care less about the book but it was the best subtle form, or at least he imagined, to bring up their last conversation.

''Sorry. What is it about?''

''Dreams'' he said looking forward to his reaction and Will inhaled sharply.

''Hmmmm, no need to examine me that deeper. I'm already accustomed to the idea of not sleeping well''

''Oh, I insist. The nature of a dream can tell a lot about your problems, it could help you. Have you been dreaming with Alana?''

''After that kiss, I don't seem to dream about her anymore''

''Did the kiss satiated your desire, or wasn't it as you expected?'' He was fishing for information, but very discreetly, or not.

''You could say that, I didn't really feel something. As you said before, it was just me looking for a support of reality, safety.''

''There are other things that can support you''

''Such as...?'' He said bemused.

''Me'' Hannibal said while opening the book.''I'm your psychiatrist and your friend, if you ever feel like loosing grip onto sanity, I'll try to help you''

''I'm... glad. I hope your fully sane then''

''Fully? No one is fully sane. But I can help you reassure where and who you are''

''Wow, that's a lot''

''Don't underestimate those'' Stubborn Will could make him lose his patience sometimes, but not yet. ''Well, so it is not Alana? With who have you been dreaming then?''

''I'd be really embarrassed if I told you''

''You already are'' He waved his hand and pretended he was guessing ''A man? That's nothing to be ashamed of''

Hannibal already knew it was himself, for weeks he had been planting some ideas in Will's head through hypnosis. He wasn't sure it would work and didn't believe it, but the results were obvious now. Seeing Will drifting to unconsciousness submitted to his hypnosis... It aroused primitive needs in Hannibal, other than the ones he already indulged. Not that he hadn't been with a man before, but Will was different. The blushing he would have thought silly on another's face, fitted Will's perfectly, insinuating an innocence appealing as good food, music and wine. It has been a long time since something equaled to his good old indulgences.

''You don't understand, I'm not gay''

Hannibal frowned, raising his light and almost non existent brows.

''Ok, but I'm not attracted to any man, it's only the one in my dreams''  
Now Hannibal was flattered.

''Is it someone I know?''

''Yes, but I'm not telling anymore''

''No need to, merely curiosity''

''Professional curiosity?''

''If you want to call it that''

* * *

 

They sat around the table while Hannibal read the book out loud. Will wasn't paying attention to what was being said, only to the timber of Hannibal's voice. It was grave and sometimes rough, a soothing lullaby, not to sleep but to initiate an exotic ritual.

The air smelled of desire and for brief seconds, Will felt the harsh breath of the stag down his neck, the same stag he had been seeing since... he had began to work again for the FBI. Entering so many killer's minds in such a small period of time had him crazy and this remembered something that Hannibal had said to him another time.

_...''He's a psychopath, but he's not crazy. Psychopaths can discern the difference between right and wrong, but they don't care about it.''..._

At least he wasn't a psychopath. But that was no console. He sometimes forgot what he did, confused dreams with reality and wasn't sure anymore what he really wanted. Even Alana who used to be his bedrock couldn't help him anymore and he didn't want her too. What he wanted was the man in front of him to fuck him on that same table. Wow. Such direct thoughts with things he'd never thought before, but there they were, suggesting something he's never wanted before. Strangely he wasn't ashamed for his thoughts, but should he be?

If you are not shocked by Will's line of thoughts - although anyone could understand how the doctor might be appealing, whether for physical or intellectual traits - it's because even he himself wouldn't dare describe what he imagined more detailed.

''...accordingly to the nature of the dreams''

''Huh?''

''I was saying that a deer defecating would be the sign of anxiety ''

''Really? How so?'' It'd have been be funny to hear the serious man saying that but he wouldn't dare to laugh about it because deeply, he was kinda afraid of deers, a better word would be intimidated, they remembered him of stags. Actually most people think they're the same, it may seem obvious but deers are not stags.

''It's supposed to be joke, Will. I was just checking if you were listening''

Hannibal and jokes don't combine, he should try dark humor.

''Sorry''

''You apologize too much, no need for that''

''S... ok, I'd better be going, it's getting late''

''See you tomorrow then. Good dreams''

That last phrase said with an innocently menacing tone and red lips slightly curving upward.

======

''And he strikes again'' Will said with a bitter laugh.

If you are wondering whether the special agent had dreams again with the doctor, the answer would be: yes, of course. Today he woke up frustrated but wouldn't dare release the sexual tension in the shower because whenever he analyzed the course of his actions: his hands gently adjusting himself a little bit longer than necessary... He wouldn't, he couldn't! Why? So many reasons but he couldn't put one in his thoughts. Later he would figure it out.

This time the victim was a man, but it was obvious the work of the same killer as before. Though the positioning was still erotic, the mutilation was much worse, including the genitalia. What a freak was this murderer, according to the profile Will had built, he was a 40-something man, with fetishes, but that was the obvious part to any FBI profiler. The first step was always to find something in common between the murders, connect them. In this case the signature was ''pretty'' apparent, all corpses had strings cutting trough the meat and internal organs were missing.

Will could imagine the killer, after dismembering a body, laughing maniacally and saying ''Get yourself together, man!''

The basic steps for profiling were common, anyone could do it. That's where Will did his thing. He closed his eyes and his breath calmed down, that was strange. Normally he felt full of power and adrenaline, as the killer, but now it was peaceful. It was the effect of anesthesia.

_My eyelids are so heavy, the black of their insides is all I see._

_I don't want to open them. Somebody is beating me and the wet sound of blood gushing out of open wounds is all I hear._

_It's my blood an I don't wanna see it. While the guy is screaming ''I'm not a fucking puppet'', all I wanted to say was ''I'm not a fucking puppet too!'' but no words came out, not even a scream._

_Nothing was all I said._

_Everybody should be fucking able to at least scream when they're suffering and dying. My eyes involuntarily open and the last thing I see is a lot of human body pieces but I focus on the wedding ring that looked vaguely like mine on a hand that looked like mine._

_Yeah, they were mine. My last thoughts weren't about my wife or my kids. I just couldn't stop thinking ''Shit. Did the fucker cut my dick too?''_

 

Will opened his eyes, trembling, one hand to steady him on the wall and the other curled protectively around his own cock. He didn't empathize with the killer, but with the victim. This wasn't right. He just wanted to go home soon, sit with his dogs and analyze this further, maybe even talk about this with Hannibal later.

Would it be of any console to the man that his dick wasn't cut, just mutilated? Will did feel sorry for the man but his last thought as he left the crime scene was ''Why did I relate to the victim?''


End file.
